


The Shared Hotel Room Problem

by HandsomeManExpress (DangerousCommieSubversive)



Category: Chikara (Professional Wrestling)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Daddy Kink, Exhibitionism, M/M, Multi, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:11:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5220965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerousCommieSubversive/pseuds/HandsomeManExpress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Listening to your teammates make out in the other bed can be awkward, especially when they think you're asleep and start talking about how much they're into <em>you</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shared Hotel Room Problem

Dasher tries not to watch them.

They’re not easy to avoid; neither Mark nor Icarus has a shred of shame or decency, they’re impossible to embarrass. They wait until they think Dasher is sleeping out of _courtesy,_ because they respect him, but if they didn’t then _nothing_ would stop them from doing what they do right in front of him.

It’d be easier if travel was cheaper, but travel’s not cheap, and the road’s how they live, so all four of them share a room most nights. Heidi sleeps next to Dasher. She trusts that his intentions are honorable, and she’s sweet to sleep next to, curled up against his side and snoring very gently. Like sharing the bed with a cat, especially when she decides mid-dream to roll over and drape herself across his chest with her hair in his nose, trapping his arm underneath her stomach so that he can’t move without waking her. Mark and Icarus grumble and fuss and make jokes about sleeping on cots and the floor and in the bathtub, and then always end up sharing the other bed in a cloud of protest.

Which dissipates as soon as the lights are out and they’re sure that Dasher and Heidi are asleep. At which point they start…moving around.

Dasher’s not sure how many times he slept through it before waking up one night from a restless dream and realizing with a shock that his boys were…making love, as it were…in the next bed. But he can’t sleep through it now. He can’t even fall asleep _before_ they start if he knows it’s coming.

Tonight it starts with blankets rustling, a soft, bitten-off moan, and Mark saying, quietly, “Shit.”

“These boxers _suck,_ Mark, why are you even—”

“Shut up, I _like_ these boxers, we’re gonna wake them up—”

“Hold still so I can suck your dick, christ.”

Out of the corner of Dasher’s eye he sees a quick gleam of gold, Icarus at Mark’s throat and then disappearing under the blankets. Shifting under them at Mark’s…middle…and then Mark’s back arches and he moans again through lips pressed tight shut.

This continues for a few minutes. Mark is bucking and writhing and trying to suppress little desperate noises, and Icarus stays under the covers, _doing_ things that make Mark buck and writhe and whimper. Dasher chews on his lip, clenches his fists, and tries to run through baseball statistics in his head. And Heidi sleeps peacefully next to him, the only one in the room getting any rest.

More rustling. Dasher squeezes his eyes shut but then, in a moment of weakness, opens them again.

Icarus is on top of Mark, his hands on either side of Mark's head, and the blankets aren't enough to conceal that he's _definitely_ between Mark's legs. He leans in and croons, softly, “Ma~ark. I'm gonna _fu~uck_ you.”

Mark reaches up and grabs Icarus' hair. “Dude, will you shut _up?_ You're going to wake up Dasher.”

Icarus smirks. “I bet you'd _like_ that.”

Dasher makes a startled grunting noise that he manages to turn into a snore.

“Why don't I go wake him up? We'll put on a show for Daddy Dasher. I fuck you, and then you fuck me...” one of his hands is below the covers again, doing _something_ that's making Mark bite his lip. “And then we can suck him off _together._ Like _good_ boys.”

Mark _groans,_ and then gasps out, “Shut up, shut _up, fuck,_ if you keep _talking_ like that we won't even get to—”

Whatever they won't get to is lost in Icarus' mouth, and the bed creaks as Icarus shifts against and _into_ the man below him.

Dasher stares at the ceiling, flushed hot, painfully hard and trying not to think about what'd happen if he got up and went over to the other bed. (He could stroke Mark's hair, tell him what a good boy he's being, how good he is at _taking_ what Icarus is giving him, how proud of him Dasher is. He could get ahold of Icarus and take that boy _down_ a few pegs, all kind of things you could do with an ass like that. He could—)

He could get some damn sleep, running through every one of Babe Ruth's home runs and not interfering with Mark and Icarus' fun.

Heidi rolls over next to him and sighs in her sleep.

So at least _she's_ not in agony.

* * *

 

Dasher's not young anymore. It's gonna kill him. He hasn't thought about sex this much since he was a young stud on the baseball diamond and all the girls were swooning in the stands, but now all Mark and Icarus have to do is _glance_ at him and he feels like a teenager with a pin-up of Greta Garbo. And it's _never_ just glancing. Mark has this look, this love-me look that used to make Dasher worry but now it makes him _wants._ Or Icarus, flirting, flaunting, leaning over the back seat of Dasher's car to get something from the trunk with his tight little ass in the air.

Dasher's going to explode, and that'd be bad. It'd be bad for the team.

They're his _kids._

Except that they're not, not really, and Mark and Icarus _want_ him.

How's he supposed to _deal_ with that?

* * *

 

It would've been easier to stop sliding down that hill if he hadn't _caught_ them at it.

He knows the boys are off _somewhere_ at their latest stop, and Heidi's scoping out the venue and then going out with friends. Dasher just heads back to the hotel room thinking he'll read. Maybe catch a game on the tee-vee.

Of course the door's already opening by the time he actually hears the moaning, and even then it doesn't really register because he's thinking about something else.

Mark's got Icarus pinned to the bed, one hand in Icarus' pants and the other in his hair, growling, “You're such a _pain_ in my—”

Dasher freezes, not sure what to do, and says, roughly, “Boys.”

Mark goes still, blushing, Icarus looks up at Dasher with heavy-lidded eyes and a mouth that's red from kissing. “Don't you ever knock?” He doesn't sound bothered, just...curious.

Dasher closes the door the rest of the way and absently snaps shut the privacy guard. “Didn't think I needed to knock to come into my own room. You boys oughtta _tell_ me if you want privacy.” Feeling dreamlike, he moves over to sit down on the edge of the other bed, facing them. “Coulda had anyone with me.”

“But it's just you.” Icarus is watching him intently. Mark has his gaze fixed downwards, still blushing, until Icarus takes a shallow breath and says, “Mark, Daddy's come to check _up_ on us.”

Mark shudders. “Don't make it _weird._ ”

But Dasher says, “I...I heard you boys talking about me the other night.”

Mark's breathing speeds up. “You. Uh. You heard that?”

“Sport, I've heard a _lot_ of things from you two. You're not real good at figuring out when I'm asleep. And you're not too quiet either.” _Dasher's_ face feels hot. “Tried not to pay attention. Didn't want to...to ruin your fun.”

“Mark _wants_ you.” Icarus is still pinned under Mark, but he's grinning, grinding his hips _very_ slowly up against Mark's hand. “He wants you to see us. He wants to show _off_ for you.”

Mark chokes off a moan. “Shut up, you're _so_ bad, you're just gonna freak him _out._ ”

Dasher swallows hard. “Bad. That's the word. What...what would you two do if I said that I've thought about that a _lot_ , past few days?”

This takes both of them by surprise. Icarus, despite his teasing, goes still and actual starts to blush, which Dasher hadn't thought him capable of. Mark makes a choking noise and loses his balance, toppling onto the bed next to Icarus with a dazed look on his face and saying, slowly, “What?”

“I've been hearing you boys entertain yourselves for _weeks_ now. What if.” Dasher swallows again. His mouth feels dry. “What if I wanted you to entertain _me?_ I get lonely.”

Icarus props himself up on one elbow, watching Dasher with _real_ interest now. “What do you want us to do?”

Dasher hasn't thought that far ahead, which means that it catches him off-guard when instead of waiting for an answer, Icarus grabs his hand and sucks two fingers showily—and sloppily—into his mouth, maintaining eye contact the whole time. Mark grunts and pulls Icarus back down, kisses him _while_ audibly muttering, “You are a _jackass._ ”

Flushing, Dasher scratches at the back of his head. “Honestly if I didn't like you so damn much I'd say I oughtta tan your backside for keeping me up and messing around in the room when Heidi and I are sleeping, but...”

He's not sure which one of them makes the gasping noise, since their mouths are still mashed together, but it's _spectacularly_ sexual.

“I mean. Not Mark, Mark's a good boy, I hear him. But _you,_ Icarus, you've been leading him into some evil damn ways.”

And he watches them. Watches Icarus' pupils go wide so that his eyes are almost black, watches Mark hide his face in the curve where Icarus' neck meets his shoulder. Until Mark says, into Icarus' skin, “He says _I'm_ the good one. He says you've been _bad,_ ” in the teasing way that you might tell a lover that you've bought them a gift.

“I don't know, I think I've been pretty good.” Icarus grins sideways at him. “I mean, you never complained before.”

“Mark,” Dasher says, “you bring him over here.”

What ensues is something like a wrestling match, but _definitely_ also something else, Mark fighting to get hold of Icarus while _Icarus_ does his best to rub himself against Mark in the most sensuous way possible. It's agonizing to watch, mostly because Dasher desperately wants to touch them, but he waits patiently for Mark to manhandle Icarus over to him. Icarus continue to struggle, but without real effort. He's grinning.

“Good boy, Mark.” Dasher runs his fingers through Mark's hair, and Mark presses against his hand. “Gimme a hand, here.”

Then Icarus is over Dasher's lap, and his tattooed back is hot under Dasher's fingers and he's writhing and laughing. At least until Dasher's hand lands heavily on his rear end.

“I oughtta wallop you, son.” Dasher smacks him again, then frowns. “Getting Mark back into bad habits.” A pause to tug Icarus' pants down to his knees and then a third smack on the bare skin, not very hard. “Y'know, though, I'm not that kinda guy.”

Icarus' fingers tighten on the bedspread. He glances back over his shoulder, golden hair falling in his eyes. “So what kind of guy _are_ you?”

Dasher grabs the back of his neck and forces his head back down. “Mark, sport, get over here. I know how we're going to take care of him.”

Mark edges over to him almost shyly.

Dasher pulls him close with one hand, still holding Icarus down with the other, and murmurs I his ear, “I wanna watch you have him. You up for that?”

Mark shivers. “Yessir.”

“But he's staying right where he is for now. You're gonna use your mouth first.

“Yes...yessir. He'll like that.”

“Good boy.” Dasher ruffles his hair. “Now get to it.”

Mark grabs Icarus' hips to position him, kisses the small of his back, and then leans in and does as he's told.

Icarus moans noisily, pressing up against Dasher's hand as he shakes. The feeling of him writhing on Dasher's lap is a pleasurable agony, enough that Dasher has to close his eyes for a moment. But of course that makes the _sounds_ more intense, and he bites his lip and just strokes Mark's hair and says, “Good boy. Attaboy.”

Which makes _Mark_ make an unexpectedly loud and desperate noise, so Dasher's right back to restraining himself. It's been a long time since he's wanted someone so badly. And now _two_ of them, laid out across his lap and doing everything he wants them to do.

“That's it, Mark. That's my boy. You just...you get him good and ready.” Icarus ruts desperately against Dasher's thigh, and Dasher grips tighter to hold him still.”Teach him to get you into bad habits and keep me up at night.”

Icarus gasps out, “You _love_ it when we keep you up at night.”

Dasher tugs on his hair. “That's enough oughtta you, son.”

He lets Mark keep going, lets him bury his face in Icarus' ass and devour until Icarus' desperate thrashing changes character—until he starts _whimpering,_ gripping the bedspread and pleading, “Please. _Please._ ”

Dasher cocks his head. “Not sure what you're asking me for, flyboy.”

“Please fuck me. One of you. _Both_ of you.”

“Sounds like you _want_ that. I think you still owe me an apology before I go giving you thinks you want.”

“I'm sorry I kept you up.”

“And?”

“I'm sorry I dragged Mark into it and taught him bad habits.”

Mark makes a sort of satisfied snickering noise, and Dasher shoots him a reproachful look. At the sight of it Mark drops his eyes and blushes, focussing on his task with even more attention. Dasher sort of pets him. “It's ok, sport, you can give it a rest. You've done real well.”

Mark straightens up, eyes still downcast. “What do you want me to—”

“Go clean your teeth. Gimme a moment alone with our boy here.”

Mark shuffles off, and he's still half-dressed but it's _obvious_ how hard he is. The bathroom door clicks shut.

Dasher pulls Icarus up to sit up straight, strokes his back and his hair, murmurs, “How do you two normally do this?”

Icarus is kicking his pants the rest of the way off. “Well, you've _listened_ to us enough—”

“I'm asking you a serious question, son. This whole thing's plenty weird already, and I don't intend on it stopping, but I'm not gonna go making Mark uncomfortable.”

“I notice you're not worrying about _me._ ”

Dasher raises an eyebrow. “I figure if _you_ start developing a sense of shame you'll tell me.”

Icarus grins.

Then, of course, Dasher topples him back against the pillows and reaches for the lube on the bedside table. “Tell me what he wants. Tell me what _you_ want.”

Icarus shudders and whines as a finger presses into him. “Wants to be _good_ for you. He needs...he needs to _hear_ it. He'll, he'll do anything if you tell him he's a good boy and you love him.”

“What about _you?_ _You_ wanna be a good boy for me?” Two fingers.

“Yyyess. Sir. Please.”

Feet on the carpet. Mark's back, breathing shallowly behind them. Dasher doesn't look at him yet. “What about Mark? Gonna be good for _him?_ ”

Icarus' breath keeps hitching. “If you tell me to. Daddy.”

Dasher lets that slides. Maybe for a _later_ conversation. “Mark, sport, come over here.”

Mark's shy. “Ok, Dasher,” is barely audible as he climbs onto the bed, and it's strange seeing this quiet in him when he's normally so brash and loud.

“Give me a kiss.” His boy's mouth tastes of sweet, sharp peppermint, and Dasher helps him strip as they're kissing before guiding him down to where Icarus is laid out and ready. “Good boy, Mark. Good job. Why don't you show me what you can do.”

Icarus moans theatrically as Mark enters him. It turns into _actual_ moaning as Mark bites into the side of his neck. Mark mumbles, “You're such a fucking brat, I'm gonna make you scream,” against his throat.

Dasher wants them both so badly that it hurts, and he finally peels off his shirt and works one hand into the front of his own pants. The other hand stays on Mark's back, stroking, urging. “Go on, Mark, that's it. That's what he needs. You're doing a good job.”

Icarus is folded nearly in half by Mark's thrusts. He can't even moan anymore; he's just gasping. Mark's breathing is so harsh that it's almost sobbing, interspersed with little desperate “thank you”s at Dasher's encouragement.

Then Icarus murmurs something and Mark _stops._

Dasher blinks. “You boys all right?”

Icarus' head falls back. “Dasher~”

“Let us.” Mark gulps. “Let us take care of _you. Please._ ”

Dasher nods mutely.

There are two beautiful young men crawling towards him and pulling off his pants. Side by side they raise their eyes to his, lean forward, and lick.

Dasher's eyes roll back in his head until he realizes he's missing the view. He rests a hand on each of their heads. “Good... _god...good_ boys, you're my best boys...”

Mark shivers. His mouth is hot. Icarus licks with a gleam in his eyes that suggests that he's wanted to do this for a while. _He_ reaches up to the back of Mark's neck and rubs. “Hey, Mark, why don't you show Dasher what you're good at?”

Before Dasher can say anything, Mark shifts up onto his hands and Icarus coaxes him to slide his mouth carefully down, and down, and down—

Dasher makes a sort of choking noise. Apparently Mark has talents that he wasn't aware of, and he just manages, “Feels _so_ good, that's it, you're just. You're my _best—_ ”

Mark comes _first,_ moaning around Dasher with every word of praise, and Icarus takes his place until Dasher's _almost there—_ and then he pulls back and Dasher covers both of the beautiful upturned faces of his boys with his release.

Which leaves Icarus, who _was_ in trouble and _should_ go last, and Mark climbs on top of him like they were when Dasher found them and strokes him until he comes with a jerk.

Dasher isn't feeling terribly coherent, so instead of saying anything he just kisses them both into insensibility and then goes to get a washcloth.

* * *

 

Heidi gets a text from Mark that just says [oh my god i'm so] and texts back [WELL FINALLY].

* * *

 

Dasher goes cold for a moment even under his Mark-and-Icarus blanket and says, “I'm. I'm taking advantage of you two.”

Mark buries his face in the side of Dasher's neck and just says, sleepily, “No you're not, we love you.”

Icarus chimes in with, “We put a lot of time and effort into seducing you, shut up.”

“Don't you tell me to shut up, son.”

“If I do will you spank me.”

“Uh...”

“Please say yes,” Mark mumbles. “He's so obnoxious.”

* * *

 

Heidi sends another text. [INCLUDE ME next time]

* * *

 

“Can we bring Heidi?”

Dasher blinks.

* * *

 

[He says ok.]

“All _right._ ”


End file.
